


Wake-up Call

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Aoba tries to sleep off a headache, Noiz wakes to find Aoba has had a sudden change in personality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake-up Call

Of all the things Noiz expected to attend to on his day off, a surprise wasn’t one of them. He awoke as he usually did, the light from the window soft with early sunrise, his body still attuned to its weekday wake up time. He hummed sleepily as he reached out, his hand coming to rest on Aoba’s side. There was a startled flinch beneath his palm, and Noiz opened his eyes to find Aoba already looking at him. There was a surprised quality to his expression, arched eyebrows high, his gaze clear and bright.

“You already awake?” Noiz asked, squeezing Aoba fondly.

“Mmhmm,” Aoba hummed. He met Noiz’s gaze for only a second before glancing away, eyes still wide. Noiz wondered if Aoba had been having a nightmare.

“After last night, I figured you’d be out like a light until lunch. Especially when you said your headache was setting in,” Noiz said, voice gruff and tired. “You sleep alright?”

“More than alright,” Aoba said, words short and clipped, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say them. “Knocked out the second my head hit the pillow.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Noiz said, scooching closer to kiss Aoba’s forehead. Aoba didn’t lean into the kiss, though Noiz’s lips lingered as he asked, “Want some breakfast?”

“Sounds great. I’ll catch you in the kitchen,” Aoba said, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

Now that was the Aoba Noiz knew and loved. Had married, even. So as he made for the kitchen he chalked Aoba’s oddness up to a facet of not being a morning person. Being awake, and so early at that must have been a personal crime against Aoba’s circadian rhythms.

Fifteen minutes and two plates loaded with food later, Aoba shuffled his way into the kitchen, his hair only partially tamed and his clothing that which he’d worn the night before, and which Noiz had so dutifully pulled from his body in the rush to the bedroom. Two of the buttons had come off, and the bottom hung open on account of it.

“Aoba?” Noiz asked as they sat, plates before them.

“Yeah?” Aoba answered as he looked up. His eyes were still different, too bright and bordering on manic. Noiz had seen those eyes on the faces in people in mugshots, apprehended after week-long benders and blood still coursing with God knew what. It was a manic sort of energy, borderline frightening.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what? My clothes?” Aoba asked. He leaned back as his head turned, warily regarding Noiz. “Why wouldn’t I be wearing my clothes?”

“Well, for someone who’s so insistent on showering five minutes after sex, I figured you’d want to wear clothes that were a little cleaner.”

Aoba didn’t respond to that, too busy looking at his hand. More specifically, the wedding band around his finger. He started to pull it off, slowly, like it was a band aid he wasn’t sure he should remove. When he spotted the tan line beneath it, he slipped it back on.

“Holy shit,” Aoba said softly.

“What’s wrong?” Noiz asked.

“We’re married,” Aoba said, looking up.

“Of course we’re married,” Noiz said. The worry in the back of his mind was growing, infiltrating his every thought. Something was wrong with Aoba. This wasn’t right. “Why wouldn’t we be married?”

“Well, I mean, you’re cute and all,” Aoba said. “Cute enough to fuck, since we already did that. But I don’t, like… I don’t do married, get it?”

“You don’t do married,” Noiz echoed sarcastically.

Aoba pushed his plate away, elbows coming up to rest on the table as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth and nose as his brows furrowed in thought. His voice was muffled behind his palms as he asked, “Or do I?”

Noiz put his fork down, his appetite evaporating in the wake of Aoba’s words.

“What’s the date?” Aoba asked.

Noiz told him, and Aoba’s nostrils flared.

“Holy shit, I’ve been sleeping that long?” Aoba asked as he stood. “I meant to take a nap, not pull a Rumpelstiltskin.”

Noiz stared blankly, his heart beating too hard, his skin dampening with anxious sweat. This wasn’t Aoba─ not his Aoba. And this wasn’t a joke, a prank drawn out too long. Being recalled in the back of his mind were old memories of conversations they’d had during quiet moments, whether it be on long walks down cold streets, or in the fleeting moments before sleep overwhelmed them. It all clicked at once.

“Sly?” Noiz asked.

Aoba’s nose wrinkled in contempt. “Does this look like a Rhyme field to you?”

”No, but─”

”That‘s it, the end. Don‘t call me that outside of Rhyme. Hell, wouldn’t it be weird for me if I called you by, uh─” Aoba halted, brows furrowing as he cast his thoughts back.

“Bunny Head,” Noiz supplied.

Recognition flickered in his eyes. “That wasn’t a half bad match,” Aoba mused. “Anyway, I don’t call you that because that’d be weird. I call you…”

Aoba paused, eyeing Noiz sideways. His lips moved to form a name, but none came to his tongue.

“My name is Noiz,” Noiz said, tone steely to hide the hurt. All these years with Aoba, and the end result was to wake up to someone who didn’t so much as know his name? No. That wasn’t it. This was temporary, Noiz told himself. And this was still Aoba.

“Anyway, like I was saying. I’m Aoba too. Not Aoba Lite, or Aoba Red Fusion Mountain Dew Twist. You could think of it as a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde deal. At the end of the story they both still have the same body. And sure, Hyde was kind of totally murderous, but I’m not. I just want to have a good time while I have the chance, get it?”

Noiz nodded, watching as Aoba pushed himself away from the table and stood. Aoba glanced around the kitchen as though he hadn’t taken it in before, shaking his head at the sight of the wrought iron fruit stand and the matching salt and pepper shakers. He paused in front of the fridge, hands on his hips as he leaned in to study the photos that were stuck to it.

“Jesus,” Aoba murmured as he studied one photo. “We really are married.”

The next photo he pulled off the fridge, staring in abject horror, eyes huge and mouth open for several seconds before he snapped his head toward Noiz, his gaze upset and lips drawn. Noiz stood dutifully, quick to Aoba’s side to see what had upset him so much. In his hands was a recent photo, one in which Aoba stood in front of a rickety picket fence, the scene behind him an overcast sky and gray ocean waters.

“What is this?” Aoba hissed, jabbing a finger at his own image.

“It’s… well, it’s you,” Noiz said, unsure of how else he was supposed to answer. His fingers twitched with want to touch Aoba, to comfort him until the distress was gone from his tone.

“And what am I wearing?”

Noiz looked closer. “A sweater and jeans?”

“Not just any jeans,” Aoba said, voice low and appalled. “Mom jeans.”

Noiz couldn’t hold back his snort of amusement. “And your point is?”

“First of all, how could you let me go out wearing those? And secondly, when did I get so fucking normcore?”

Noiz chuckled softly as he took the photo from Aoba, attaching it again to the fridge. “You wanted to wear that, why would I stop you?”

Aoba groaned as he shoulders sagged, his hands coming up to cover his face. Noiz listened to the in and out of his breath, the way each exhale sounded like another ounce of life was draining from him. It was as Noiz raised a hand to rub Aoba’s back, to touch him in what small and reassuring ways he could get away with, that Aoba’s breath hitched and his hands dropped from his face.

“Oh my God,” he said weakly. “Oh my God.”

“What is it?” Noiz asked, and this time he didn’t hesitate to settle his hand between Aoba’s shoulder blades, the shape he traced against it a light circle. If Aoba noticed, he didn’t show it.

“We’re married. Like, seriously married, wedding rings and an apartment and all. And I wear mom jeans,” Aoba said, a slow horror creeping into his voice. The way he turned his head to look at Noiz was straight from a horror flick, a slow swivel that jerked at the end. “Do we have kids?”

Noiz sucked air through his teeth for a moment before he answered, “Well, kind of.”

“You don’t ‘kind of’ have kids,” Aoba said, his voice hitting a panicked note. “You either do, or you don’t.”

“They’re not kid-kids,” Noiz went on to say, his hand sliding along Aoba’s shoulder blade. “They’re furry kids.”

“Furry kids,” Aoba repeated flatly.

“Two rabbits, we got them from a shelter a few months back.”

“And I agreed to this?”

“You suggested it.”

“This is some fresh bullshit,” Aoba said hollowly.

He turned away from Noiz then, shuffling in short, zombie-like steps back to the bedroom. Noiz let a sigh filter past his lips as he went to the kitchen table, clearing away their half-eaten food, leaving the utensils in the sink and storing the leftovers in the fridge. It must have been a shock, he reasoned. To go from an unbridled life of late nights filled to excess with drugs and alcohol, a buffet of carnal desires… to this.

A life where he was married and wore mom jeans, cared for small animals and had a life that was, above all else, stable and safe.

Sucking air through his teeth and shaking his head, Noiz steeled his nerve as he shot off a quick text to Theo to postpone the dinner they were supposed to have, chalking it up to Aoba feeling unwell. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he told himself as he made his way back to the bedroom.

He found Aoba’s clothes scattered on the floor, and Aoba himself now dressed in an oversized hoodie and boxers. They belonged to Noiz, and the sight was fetching to say the least. Noiz’s heart lurched pleasantly as he eyed Aoba’s pale thighs and how his hair spilled over his shoulders.

Aoba stood with his hands pressed to the windowpane, his forehead resting against it as well. His breath fogged the glass before him, his expression blank as he gazed outside. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that Noiz had to move closer to hear him.

“Where are we?” Aoba asked.

“Germany,” Noiz said as he came up from behind Aoba, daring to slip his arms around him. There was a moment of tension, drawn muscles and stiffness that lasted two blinks before it drained away. “I asked you to come with me, and you agreed.”

“I can’t believe it,” Aoba said, and if Noiz didn’t know any better, he’d say Aoba was leaning back into him. “Moving to Germany, getting married, having… _furry children_. He got all of this. Every memory, every experience. I don’t get a fucking glimpse of it, all because I’m the bad guy.”

“I don’t think you’re bad,” Noiz murmured against the nape of Aoba’s neck.

“Real rich, but flattery isn’t exactly my weakness.”

“I mean it,” Noiz said. “Whatever you did back then, you were a kid. Hell, I was a shitty kid myself. I mean, I came looking for you, really you for no other reason than to fight.”

Aoba snorted, his hands falling from the windowpane to rest on Noiz’s forearms. “For real?”

“Embarrassingly enough, yeah.”

Aoba’s snort turned to a laugh, and soon he was wriggling in Noiz’s arms until he had turned to brace his hands on Noiz’s chest. His expression was easier now, open. There was a brightness to his eyes that wasn’t there before, a curve to his lips that held no sneer or smirk. He leaned in close until their breath mixed, and then pressed his lips to Noiz’s.

When they parted, Noiz couldn’t stop himself from asking a question that had edged his thoughts all morning.

“Do you remember loving me?”

Aoba winced at Noiz’s question before lowering his head sheepishly. His tongue swiped over his lips nervously, and Noiz heard his anxious swallow as he sought out the words he was looking for.

“It’s not that easy,” Aoba said. “I don’t─ I don’t really know you, get it? But it’s not like I hate you, or even dislike you. Sure I don’t have much experience with you, but my body is… comfortable, I guess is the best way to put it. It already knows you.”

Aoba gave a full-body shudder as he finished speaking, as though the weight the words carried were repulsive to him.

“Which kinda makes me wonder," Aoba soon continued. “What exactly is wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?” Noiz balked.

“This sorta stuff─ this apartment, you, it’s all nice. Too nice. Nice things don’t happen to me, so I’m not buying this. What’s the catch?”

“Seriously, the catch? There is none,” Noiz said. “Are you so on edge about having a good life that you can’t afford me a second of trust?”

“Murderer?” Aoba ventured, ignoring Noiz’s question. “Drug ring? Money laundering? Maybe trafficking of, shit, I don’t know, exotic animals.”

“All interesting guesses, none of them accurate.”

“Dark and sordid past? How about emotional baggage out the ass and deep-seated childhood trauma─ ah, that’s it, huh?” Aoba asked, squinting hard.

“I never said it was.”

“Your mouth is giving excuses but your face says I totally nailed it. Come on, fess up. Look at it this way, I bet I technically know already.”

Noiz’s lips thinned as he met Aoba’s gaze, the memories of his childhood that were being dredged up sending a surge of discomfort through his veins, the topic one he dreaded dwelling on. But had that part of his life not been the same as this side of Aoba’s? Locked away and left with nothing, isolated simply for who they were.

“My situation was similar to yours,” Noiz said.

“Wow, don’t overload me with details,” Aoba said dryly.

“Everyone thought I was the worst simply by existing and figured if I was out of sight I’d be less of a blight on the bloodline, so they shut me up in my room for a decade.”

“Yeesh, what a bunch of assholes,” Aoba said, shaking his head as he moved away from Noiz. “That settles it then, you got five minutes to make yourself decent.”

“And then what happens?” Noiz asked.

“Well, considering we’ve spent so much of our lives locked up, I figure we shouldn’t stay cooped up in here. Plus,” Aoba added with a sniff, his cheeks tinging the lightest pink as he looked to Noiz. “Since we’re married, you at least owe me a first date.”


End file.
